10. Lance
Chapter 10
Taking care of Hudson had given me a purpose and proved to me I wanted something real with him.
Through thick and thin.
Sickness and health.
Slow down, Ingram. You’re getting way too far ahead of yourself. The guy was sick and you took care of him. It wasn’t a marriage proposal.
But something had changed between Hudson and me when he’d been down for the count.
Ever since the day I walked into Glazed Buns and saw him sitting there, something had sparked to life. Yeah, the sex had been amazing, but it hadn’t been a true connection at that point in time.
The real intimacy had come from the hours we spent together—laughing, reliving the past, building a foundation for the future…even if Hudson was sure he couldn’t offer me that.
Those quiet moments watching him sleep.
Making him dinner.
Buying him flowers.
Reading him a book.
Hudson thrived on being taken care of—something Casey Joe had done to the best of his ability, but not in the way a kid really needed. If Hudson would only let me in, give things between us a chance, I knew I could happily spend the rest of my life taking care of him.
Whistling while I did an early-morning clean and prep of the Sweet & Creamy for opening, I couldn’t help the smile plastered across my face. I knew I had to be patient and take things slow—Hudson had to be the one to decide if this thing flaming to life between us was worth the giant leap he’d have to take.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the little moments and dream while I waited.
A bit later, as I finalized the sale paperwork—I planned on buying the shop outright from Mom once I got her to agree—the door to my office burst open, bouncing against the wall as Hudson bulldozed into the room. “What the hell is this?” he demanded, holding a piece of paper clutched in his fist.
I stood up and rounded my desk, closing the door behind him—it was still quite a while until we opened, but I didn’t need anyone walking in and overhearing us. “Not sure,” I answered calmly, knowing exactly what he had in his hand. “Maybe if you took yourself down a couple notches and stopped waving it around like a battle axe, I could get a better look.”
“A better look?” Hudson growled. “Don’t act like you don’t know what it is. You know exactly what it is. You damn dirty shit.” His words had decreased in both volume and anger, the quirk of a smile playing on his lips.
Scowling, I stepped closer. “Seriously, can’t see it. At my age, the eyes are the first to go,” I said, fighting a smile. “Move it closer, let me get my readers.”
Hudson moved into my space, an arm going around my waist, his lips only inches from mine. “You put a damn note in my lunchbox. Like I’m a fucking kid.” His eyes flashed, indecision and desire at war. “And I don’t know what’s worse. The fact I ate that shit right up—although, I’m not sure lunchbox notes are supposed to be so sexy. Or how badly I want to throw this at your damn head and storm out of here, keep my distance, stick to the plan.”
His breath tickled over my face, our hips pressed together, chests brushing with each inhale. “Go ahead,” I whispered. “Throw it and storm out.”
A challenge.
Hudson’s eyes caught fire.
“Or,” I went on, my words rough, the tension between us thick. I swallowed. “Or, just give in. Let it happen. Admit that this might not be the nightmare you’re afraid it will be.”
“I may be terrible at it,” Hudson whispered, words catching in his throat.
“Same.”
“Might need to go slow.”
“I’m patient.” I nuzzled my nose against his.
“Don’t want to lose what we’ve found together,” Hudson said, his words raw and real.
“What we had back then, what we have now, it’s rooted too deep to just lose it. We build on it, make it bigger and better, but the foundation—love and friendship—it stays the same.” Did my voice sound as desperate as I felt—like I’d do and say anything to get Hudson to just take that step with me?
Hudson took a deep breath. “Dad…” He trailed off.
“We’ll let Casey Joe in on it slowly, ease him into it.” I brushed a kiss to Hudson’s temple. “He loves us. Give him some time and I think he’ll eventually come around.”
“Really?”
“Hopefully.” Pressing kisses along Hudson’s jawline, I teased fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “What did your lunchbox note say?”
Hudson huffed a laugh. “You know damn well what it said.”
“Something, something…can’t stop thinking about you…something, something…want those secret kisses you don’t give to others…blah, something, blah…not giving up, willing to wait, you’re so much more than just sex…” I’d known the note was a leap, but it was fun and had potential, and it had paid off. “Something like that?”
“Fuck you,” Hudson growled. “You waltzed in here and broke all my rules. You should be disqualified and benched.”
“But?”
He buried his head in my neck with a half sob, half laugh. “But I can’t get you out of my head, can’t stop wanting to touch you, wanting to spend every fucking minute with you.”
“What about those kisses?” I asked, teasing, but dying to taste him.
Hudson groaned, lifting his head, his pretty pink lips begging for attention. “They’re yours,” he whispered.
His tongue darted out to chase my thumb as I trailed it over his bottom lip. With both hands cupping his face, our lips only inches apart, I savored the moment of delicious tension before pressing our mouths together.
Sweat heat.
A gasp, a groan.
Slick, nipping, teasing.
And then the kiss morphed from sexy and playful to hot, demanding, drunk with desire-filled promises.
A kiss had never tasted so good.
Had never lit me on fire, so hot and needy.
Hudson’s tongue, slick against mine, pulled a moan from deep in my chest.
Whirling him around and pressing him against my desk, I stepped between his spread legs, growling when the twin bulges behind our jeans came together.
The sweaty, salty flavor of his skin danced on my tongue as I trailed kisses along his jawline and down his neck.
Hudson whimpered when I bit lightly at the sensitive skin where his neck and shoulder met, dipping his head and bringing our mouths back together. Like a starving man, hungry for only my kisses, Hudson feasted on my mouth.
“Can’t.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Stop.” Another kiss to my cheek. “Kissing.” A brush of lips over my eyelid. “You.” Back to my mouth, bruising as he crushed our lips together.
“Don’t stop,” I said, wishing like hell we were near a bed. Our first time—the first time that really meant something—wouldn’t be on a desk in my office.
We kissed forever.
And then we kissed some more.
Finally, Hudson broke away, panting. Pressing his forehead to mine, he took a shuddering breath. “Really want you to fuck me,” he said. “But it feels like this needs to be one of those let’s take it slow type things.”
“If we had a bed, I’d argue with you,” I said, brushing my lips over his mouth.
“No bed, no full-on sex,” Hudson said, regret lacing his words. “But we can get each other off.” He stood, adjusting himself, and pushed me toward the desk chair. Once I’d sat down, he went to work on my jeans, the button and zipper open in a flash. Hudson gripped the waistband of my boxer briefs and looked at me, a silent question hanging between us.
At my nod, he lifted the material, licking his lips as he uncovered my hard cock. “Fuckin’ hot,” he murmured, his eyes catching mine.
“Bet you say that to all the guys,” I teased, meaning it to be light, but the streak of white-hot jealousy shooting through me was anything but.
“Haven’t been with anyone since you,” Hudson said. “You fucked me up for anyone else.”
“I didn’t—” My words cut off with a hiss when Hudson wrapped his lips around my cockhead and swirled his tongue. “Fuck, Hudson.”
He worked me over for several minutes, sucking and licking, his head bobbing, fist working with just the right amount of pressure. Right when I thought he’d finish me off, Hudson stood, wiping pre-cum and spit from his chin. “My turn.”
He started to undo his pants, but I pushed him to lean against the desk and batted away his hands. I lifted the edge of his t-shirt until Hudson got the clue and took it off enough to catch behind his neck. Rolling the desk chair closer, my dick and balls throbbing, I pressed kisses against the flower tattoo adorning his belly button. Making quick work of his button and zipper, I found Hudson’s hot pink boxer briefs soaked through and his dick bulging against the fabric. Mouthing along the outline of his cock, I savored the warm, musky scent and the steely heat under my lips.
“Suck me,” Hudson demanded, his words flaming the fire in my blood.
Shifting his underwear to catch below his balls, I gripped his cock and flicked my tongue over his slit. I wasn’t a complete novice when it came to giving head, and I definitely knew what felt good, but Hudson’s eyes on me as I took his cock deep to the back of my throat was a new thrill I hadn’t even known I needed.
I liked him watching me, liked knowing it was my mouth, my tongue, my hand urging those grunts and groans from him. Liked the way his fingers slipped into my hair and tugged me gently, his hips rocking, the head of his dick going deeper and deeper in my throat.
When I gagged, Hudson cursed and pulled out of my mouth. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling me up to stand. “Fuck, your mouth is so good,” he whispered, his lips against mine, the flavor of our pre-cum and cocks mixing together. “Pull your pants down,” he demanded.
Loving the way Hudson took charge, I shucked my pants and underwear down, chuckling when he pushed me to sit in the desk chair. He stripped out of his pants and underwear in one smooth motion, leaving the t-shirt caught behind his neck, emphasizing gorgeous pecs and dusky-pink nipples I wanted to get my mouth on. Toeing the wheel lock on the chair, Hudson studied the arms. “Do these collapse?”
Blinking away the haze of lust, I glanced at the arms of the chair. “Um, yeah, I think so.” I pressed a button at the back of one arm and it lurched forward to position itself out of the way. When I’d done the same with the other arm, Hudson smiled and straddled me, wrapping his arms around my neck as our cocks rubbed together.
“Can you come like this?” he asked.
I grunted and pulled him in for a long, sloppy, hot kiss, one hand trailing down his back to grip his ass. Hudson rocked his hips, riding me, pressing his cock against mine, our pre-cum leaking against our bellies. “Fuck, yeah,” I said.
“Help me,” Hudson begged, his hand wrapping around our dicks and stroking. “Jack us off.”
With our hands stroking together, both of us teasing thumbs over our leaking slits, we set a rhythm I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up with for long. Leaning in, I took one of Hudson’s nipples in my mouth and sucked, swirling my tongue around the tight bud.
He cursed and thrust into my fist, the hot friction between our dicks building higher and higher to our release.
“Want you in my hole,” Hudson whispered, his lips against my ear as we let loose of the double stroking and jerked our own dicks in a desperate frenzy. “Wanna feel you come in me.”
“Next time,” I said, stroking my throbbing cock as I imagined sliding into Hudson’s ass and making him mine. “Real bed, real feelings.” My words were babble, but I didn’t care.
“Yes,” Hudson agreed on a whimper. “Fuck, yes. Oh god, Lance, I’m so close. Gonna come.”
“Come on me,” I demanded, my own balls drawn up tight, ready to explode.
With a groan, Hudson came all over my chest and stomach, his balls pressed against me. The hot splash of his load on my skin was enough to send me over the edge. My release shot hot and thick between us, our cum mixing together as he leaned in to capture my mouth.
We kissed for several long, slow moments until we’d caught our breaths.
“Um, we’re a mess,” Hudson said with a lazy smile against my mouth.
I leaned forward and pulled open a desk drawer to grab a box of tissues.
With a quick cleanup—or the best we could do with tissues—we silently dressed again. Was this when Hudson would freak out? Was he just waiting for the right moment to bolt?
“Is it weird how much I liked being taken care of when I was sick?” Hudson asked, his words barely a whisper. “Like, how fucked am I that a friend doing nice things for me got me all up in my feels?”
I pulled him into a hug. “We all like being taken care of. You just missed out on it a bit more than some, so it means even more. There’s nothing bad or weird about it.”
“Would have bet money I didn’t need shit like that,” he said.
“Sometimes we don’t know what we need until it’s right in front of us.” I ran my hand up and down his back. “What you said earlier, about not being with anyone else.” I drew back and made sure Hudson’s eyes met mine. “I’d never make you stop the massage stuff—I can’t say I’d like knowing you were doing that with other guys, but I wouldn’t presume?—”
“Shut up,” Hudson said, his face breaking out into a huge grin. “You’re ridiculous. Why do you think I haven’t had any hookups or massages lately?”
I shrugged, something akin to surly teen taking over.
“I went and met some hot-ass guy in a coffee shop and got my head and dick all wrapped up in him.”
My eyes came up to meet his. “Just your head and dick?”
Hudson leaned in to kiss me. “Maybe my heart too. Look, I may not have any experience with this real shit, but I know enough to know that I don’t want you sleeping around and I don’t have any need to sleep around if we’re going to do this. So, the hookups are done while this is happening. The regular massages are still a thing, but I won’t be taking any full-service appointments if we’re together.”
“Why do you keep saying if?”
“I mean, we are. Right? This is where things get weird for me. I don’t know how to do this. This is why I’ve always avoided getting involved.”
“Let’s just say we’re together and we’re taking things slow, seeing where things go.” I cupped his face and brushed a soft kiss over his lips. “How’s that?”
“I can work with that,” Hudson said, gripping the back of my head and deepening the kiss. “But now, I need to go home and shower before I go help Henry at the bar. You coming in for dinner?”
“It’s a date,” I said, smacking his ass as he walked toward the door. “Hudson?”
“Yeah,” he said, eyes bright as he turned to face me.
“I know we’re going slow—whatever that means for you is fine by me—but if you wanted to, I don’t know, have a sleepover sometime soon, I wouldn’t say no.”
He grinned and bit his lip. “That’s good information to know.”
Once Hudson was gone, I headed upstairs and cleaned up. Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I flopped onto my bed and relived the moments with Hudson. When my eyes fluttered shut, I grabbed my phone, set an alarm for thirty minutes, and let sleep take over.
“Where’s Hudson?” Henry asked with a frown.
“Whatdya mean?” I asked as I sat at the bar. “Thought he was here. Said he had to help you tonight.” The lights flickered as lightning flashed outside and the bar shook from the roll of thunder. “Damn, that’s building up to be one heck of a storm.”
“Seriously, he’s not with you?” Henry demanded.
“He was,” I answered, my cheeks heating. “But he left to get ready and come here. We were going to meet for dinner.”
Henry grabbed his phone and tapped a few times. “Fuck,” he growled. “Damn big hail expected. He’s probably out in the orchard.”
“Out in the orchard? With that storm rolling in?” I pushed away from the bar, terror filling my chest. I punched my phone screen and listened to the incessant ringing until Hudson’s voicemail kicked on. “Fuck. You try.”
While Henry tried to call his brother, I sent a text telling him to answer his fucking phone.
Neither of us got any kind of response.
Honestly, it wasn’t surprising. If he was in the orchard on a good day, the reception could be spotty. In the middle of a storm, reception was likely zero.
Henry glanced around at the full roadhouse.
“I’ll go,” I said. “Keep your phone on. I’ll let you know when I find him.”
“He’ll be in the section that doesn’t have netting, probably trying to get as many picked as possible to save them from the hail,” Henry said, worry etching lines across his face. “God damn it,” he growled, clearly fearing for his brother’s safety.
We both winced when the windows flashed to life from lightning. The thunder roared, rattling the glasses behind the bar.
“Take my raincoat and flashlight,” Henry ordered. “And when you find him, punch him in his damn stupid face for me.”
I nodded, grabbed the coat from the hook on the wall, and took the large flashlight Henry handed me. Throwing the raincoat on, grateful for the hood with the visor, I zipped it up and tied the hood tight.
“Boots,” Henry said, pointing to his big, waterproof boots in the corner. “Forget your shoes, they’ll be soaked in less than thirty seconds.”
Toeing off my loafers, I stuck my feet in Henry’s boots, glad we were nearly the same size. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I quickly shared my location with Henry and with Hudson before tucking it back into the inner pocket of the raincoat where it would hopefully stay dry.
“Be careful. That lightning is wicked. No one should be out in it,” he said, worry lacing his words. “Don’t be under trees, but don’t be the tallest thing out there, either.”
I nodded and slapped him on the back. “I’ll find him.” I hoped that was true. In all honesty, I was scared to death. I didn’t hate storms, but I had a strong respect for them—knew the deadly damage they could bring. The good news was there were no tornadoes in this storm system. The bad news was the possible hail—but that wasn’t a sure thing. The current worst part was the wind and lightning, plus the deluge of rain.
Walking into the onslaught, I took a moment to get my bearings. The rain was heavy, but it wasn’t as icy cold as I’d expected. The wind nearly knocked me to my knees, but I turned toward the section of the orchard where the peaches were the most unprotected and the closest to being ready to pick.
The good thing about peaches was they could be picked a bit early and still ripen over time. No doubt in my mind that Hudson would do everything he could to get the netting rigged up over all of the orchard as soon as possible.
If the damned fool lived through this storm.
Every bellow of Hudson’s name was drowned out by the wind and the rain, but I kept yelling, kept making my way toward where I thought he’d be. I’d known the orchard way back when, but Hudson and I had spent many recent days walking the land and talking about his plans to make the orchard and the Juicy Peach bigger and better, so I knew exactly the section he was most likely to start picking peaches.
When I reached the little lean-to, strategically placed to best withstand storm winds, a chuckle of relief escaped my chest. Inside the lean-to were about ten bushels of peaches protected from the storm. Hudson was saving his crop while risking his life.
“Fucking hell, Hudson,” I growled. “No. We’re not doing this. I refuse to have you finally give the go-ahead for us to take a chance and then have you break your neck or be struck by lightning for some fuzzy fruit.” I laughed, a bit of hysteria seeming to eat at the edges of my mind, and swung the flashlight around.
If the baskets were here, Hudson was obviously bringing them in one at a time. I could wait until he brought the next one.
Or I could wait and wait and he’d never show because he fell off the ladder or got electrocuted.
There was no way I could just stand in that little lean-to and hope he came back with another bushel of peaches. Stepping out into the downpour, the howling winds whipping rain into my eyes, I glanced to the left and the right.
The flashlight went dim.
Flickered.
And went out.
Fuck.
Closing my eyes, I tried to feel Hudson’s presence. Which way should I go?
With nothing but a gut feeling, I darted off to the right.
The ink-black night and roaring wind absorbing my desperate, repeated cries of “Hudson!” as I ran through the orchard.
As I rounded a row of peach trees, a body silhouetted in a flash of lightning.
“Hudson!” My screams useless in the roar of thunder.
Another flash.
The storm was right on top of us.
Flash.
Hudson’s outline walking toward me.
My soul trembling as the ground shook with thunder.
And then the world went white, the atmosphere cracking, an inferno of heat as a bolt of lightning struck the orchard.
Hudson went down.